


A Step Too Far

by strawberryjei



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Sad Ending, Suicide, Tim is tired, Whump, damian is still trying to kill tim, dick is trying his best but he's frazzled, why does this family always have dramatic rooftop confrontations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27222583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strawberryjei/pseuds/strawberryjei
Summary: Tim was tired. He hasn’t slept much since the night that Damian had cut his line mid-swing. However, the attempt on his life wasn’t what weighed on his mind. After the panicked freefall, Tim’s subconscious dredged up his childhood recurring nightmare.It always began with Tim’s five year old self at the circus.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 76





	A Step Too Far

**Author's Note:**

> hey so this isn't gonna have a happy ending, so now would be a good time to grab some fluff or back out if you're not into unhappy endings. I'm terrible because I typically only read happy endings and here I am writing unhappy ones. If there's something that you feel should be added to the tags, feel free to point it out in the comments!

Tim was tired. He hasn’t slept much since the night that Damian had cut his line mid-swing. However, the attempt on his life wasn’t what weighed on his mind. The panicked freefall had dredged up his childhood recurring nightmare.

It always began with Tim’s five year old self at the circus, clutching the remnants of a puff cotton candy. Dick Grayson had just finished a brief solo act on the trapeze, and was confidently waving from the safety of the platform. He’d even done a flip, the one that he’d promised he’d do for Tim! John and Mary Grayson ruffled their son’s hair as they passed by to begin their own routine. They swung back and forth to gain momentum, and Mary leaped. The rope snapped, and the couple began falling. Somehow, it became Tim falling, watching the ground creep closer and closer as he fell in slow motion. He always woke up before he hit the ground.

He’d had that dream every night that week, exacerbated by Damian’s more frequent attempts to maim him. Just earlier that day, Tim had left his pie out on the counter as he ran back to his room to grab a jacket. He passed Damian on the way into the kitchen, looking more smug than normal. Tim took his pie to the lab to see how his food was tampered with this time. The coarse sugar that Alfred had sprinkled on top for texture had been joined by shards of glass cut to the same size.

He nibbled on his granola bar, staring into the Gotham smog. It wasn’t bad. Steph had introduced him to it because she was excited about anything and everything chocolate. It was dry compared to the pie he’d had to throw away. He ate mechanically, knowing that he had to eat something if he didn’t want to pass out on patrol. He’d already had a few brushes with blackouts, limbs heavy as black spots across his vision threatened to grow larger and consume him completely. 

* * *

Dick stepped out onto the roof of Wayne Enterprises, only a floor above the penthouse that he’d moved all Bat operations to. Red Robin hadn’t started patrol yet. He had chosen to lounge on the roof of WE, munching on something that Alfred wouldn't have let him eat under normal circumstances. The old normal was Red swinging by the Cave often enough to have his pockets stuffed with almonds and craisens. The new normal was celebrating that Tim was eating anything at all because he’d taken to avoiding meal times.

The new normal was this shell of a person that mechanically went through the motions of living. Three months ago, Dick had grabbed him by the upper arm and refused to let him leave Gotham city limits. 

He was Batman now. He had to be responsible for Damian, and Gotham, and Tim, and even Alfred to some extent. Dick was tired as all hell, but he owed it to Bruce not to let another son run from home and get himself killed. He needed to be better.

Dick made a mental note to have Alfred guilt Tim into eating dinner. More often than not, Tim would find a way to talk circles around Dick. It would be at least half an hour later that Dick would remember that he'd never gotten around to pressuring Tim to come to dinner. Sometimes, his invitation was met with dead silence and a weary, incredulous stare.

"Hey Red." Dick strolled over and ruffled Tim's hair. 

Tim gave him a small smile and half-heartedly tried to fix his mussed hair. Dick had been pulling that same move since Tim was a little scrap of a thing. 

"Movie night, Saturday in the media room. You in? We're going all out, dragging the king mattress down so we can build a fort. We'll have caramel corn," he singsonged. 

"Sorry, I’m not available Saturday."

"More important than marathoning Fast and Furious? I'm hurt, I don't know how I could go on without you to help me mock the car chases!" Dick dramatically gasped. 

"I'm sure that you would continue to live without Drake’s presence. Thrive, even."

Dick and Tim turned to face Damian, who stood arms akimbo across the roof. 

"Who is going to notice the absence of someone who is never present? Or care, for that matter."

Dick froze to the spot. Tim really hadn't been around lately. Not since he stopped him from leaving Gotham. Which was odd, because he’d always been nearby, in his room in the Penthouse. Tim just never left unless it was for food, the bathroom, or patrol. Dick made sure to keep him close, especially because Tim had taken to using his stealth training to slip away from him. If he didn’t know Tim as well as he did, Dick would’ve been left in the dust long ago.

He was frozen to the spot as he tried to come up with someone other than himself and Alfred would miss Tim. Bruce was dead, Kon was dead, Steph was dead, and Wally’s cousin got sucked into the time stream. Tm’s parents were dead, stepmom as well, and that one friend who played the nerd game with the dice ...has cancer. He hadn’t heard from Tim whether that friend had passed as well. 

Evidently, he had taken too much time thinking about Tim's support network.

"Geez, that’s some Brother of the Year material right there. Well, Red Robin out," Tim choked out. He walked to the ledge of the roof, turned with a snappy salute, and stepped backwards into a demented trust fall, one with no one to catch him but smoggy Gotham air.

Dick had taught Jason that move to scare Bruce. He taught Tim because of how much his face lit up in genuine awe to learn a trick from the first Robin himself. It seemed that he was going to have to teach Damian how to do it as well. He wished Damian didn't need to prove himself just as capable as his predecessor, if not more. Speaking of which-

"Robin! That was uncalled for!"

"Was it untrue? It was a fairly obvious conclusion to be drawn, given the evidence."

Dick shook his head. "This isn't the place for this. Go do your warm up routine. I’ve just gotta find a vigilante that’s been up on these rooftops since he was nine. Comm me when you're done and we'll get started on patrol." God, both of these kids were giving him gray hair. "Batman out." 

He fixed his grapple to the ledge as he listened as Damian grumbled his way through his warm ups. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something on the ground that was oddly red. It was a splotch of red and black with specks of gold on the pavement. 

Terror shot through his veins, icy and burning. 

"Tim!" He rappelled down the building fast as he dared.

What happened? He had taught Tim how to do this stunt, he'd seen him use it multiple times. Salute, pull grapple, steady aim, fire. All in one smooth movement. And he knew that Tim had been slaving away in his room, perfecting a glider-cape hybrid. Even if the grapple misfired, Tim would've known how to minimize the damage. How to keep himself alive to limp home and bandage his wounds.

That was, if he wanted to.  _ Did _ he want to? 

Dick replayed the last few minutes in his mind. Was there the scrape of a grapple searching for purchase and failing? Where was the snap of glider wings unfurling? The long journey down was a long fall. He knew that no matter how many times he’d drilled Tim on how to fall correctly, to tuck and roll to spread the impact, there would be no coming back from a fall like this. 

* * *

Tim stepped backwards and fell, glad that the domino hid his tears. He’d waited for Dick to say something, anything. That he cared about Tim, even if Damian didn’t. To scold Damian. To do anything but stand there in silent agreement as Damian preened for being proven right. 

So Tim fell with his face to the sky, splayed like a starfish to keep from flipping over. He didn’t need to watch the ground creep closer and closer. It was all that he could see when he closed his eyes, anyway. 

This time he didn't wake up before he hit the ground.

* * *

Dick reached the ground, opening his direct line to Oracle. "I need a discreet ambulance at Wayne Enterprises, Cypress Street side, ASAP. Prep-," he paused to swallow around the lump in his throat, "Prepare a body bag."

  
  
  



End file.
